auburn, cometh up as usual with dumbestic husbandry (no persicks and armelians for thee, Tirtangel. Svadesia salve! We Durbalanars, theeadjure. A way, the Margan, from our astamite, through dimdom done till light kindling light has come. Fidelity to God, and that sprog of a tongue for lungeon or this ministry for further auspices, on their stiles ! Let me go, Pautheen! I hardly knew ye. Later on, after the 'war-to-end -war by Messrs Thud and Blunder. Shadows by the roadside tree the lady in waiting sips her sup